Hugs
by HawthorneHope
Summary: My red cheeks automatically lift at the thought of Katniss. I smirk, thinking of the fire and power she has to keep me on my toes. I never know what that girl is thinking. I can't calculate her next step no matter what. I know that she can be stubborn; a reckless girl that most would call a "handful". I don't care. A little one-shot about Peeta's POV of them growing back together


Hugs

Peeta's POV

I step from the brisk cool morning air into that warm familiar feeling that I know all too well. The warm, dense air caused by the ovens of a bakery is always a comfort to me, and I bask in my favourite part of the day. I peel off my coat and outdoor shoes as quietly as I can. There is something strangely beautiful about the quiet song of the morning, and I don't intend to interrupt it.

The early morning dawn is coming through the windows, lighting my silent, sleeping building with the first sun of the day. Some townfoke tell me that I should paint the view that I can see outside the windows, to capture it to be a reminder forever. I don't listen to them, this sight is only for me, and one of the few things that remind me I'm home. Besides, why would I want to to associate this feeling with all my nightmare driven paintings? No. I will keep this as a memory only. Mornings are something that me and Katniss share together, and I will rest in the beauty of this routine.

My red cheeks automatically lift at the thought of Katniss. I smirk, thinking of the fire and power she has to keep me on my toes. I never know what that girl is thinking. I can't calculate her next step no matter what. I know that she can be stubborn; a reckless girl that most would call a "handful". I don't care. I don't care if she grumbles that I take to much up of the bed. I don't care that she trips of my prosthetic on the side of the bed when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night and then yells at me in the morning when theres a forming purple bruise on her shin. And I don't care if she almost burns the house down and I tell her that her cooking is the best as I bravely force-swallow the next bite. I have proof that she loves me just as much as I love her.

My girl loves to hug.

I just started noticing it a few weeks after I came home from the capitol to live back in District Twelve. The first time she hugged me was when I bandaged her arm right after a fight. She was really late from the woods, and didn't come back until the sun has set. I found out after that she fell asleep on a tree and preceded to fall down, getting a nasty scar on her arm, and to this day I still feel sheepish.

_" …I just don't want you to get hurt out there Katniss!" _

_" I won't! I-"_

_"Well obviously you are, cuz I can see the fucking blood running down your arm!"_

_"Your'e such a little bitch! I been doing this for years! You can't tell me what to do!" _

At this point she walked to the sink in our kitchen and started scrubbing furiously at the dried blood on her arm. The house was silent except for the sound of her scratching away at her arm with and old rag. I hated to see her do this to herself, I clenched my fists to try to control myself from doing something I know I will regret the moment after. I came up behind her and cautiously put my hand on her wet and cold one, forcing her to stop this self-destruction.

_"What happens if you don't come back?" _ I fucking couldn't even say it completely out loud. I can be such a pussy sometimes. I was surprised she even heard silence in the room at that moment had been deafening.

_"Peeta." _She looked so surprised that I would say that. I didn't care that it would hurt her feelings at that moment. I just needed to know. _"I'm always coming back."_

I took that dirty, old rag from her, there it into the sink and lead her to the counter. and I wrapped up her arm and tended to that cut without saying a word and letting her words sink into me. We said more than enough words and there was nothing left.

Once I was done I mumbled that I was going to walk back to my house, and try to calm the air between us. I opened the main door, with plenty of intent of leaving and put both hands in my jean pockets ready to brace the evening wind when My Girl surprised me more than she ever had before.

Proving once again how swift and silent she actually can be, she swooped in and tucked both of her arms swiftly between mine, tucking her head into my chest. I was stunned for a good 5 seconds, that hug came out of no where. I quickly tried to make up for my mistake by wrapping my arms around her as fast as I could. I thought that if maybe I hugged her back even tighter then she would forgive me for my relapse. We stood there for a good minute, her loose hair blowing in my face in the breeze, my hands splayed across her back and goosebumps everywhere.

When she let go I did, not wanting to make that hug more awkward than it needed to be. She looked me square in the eye and thanked me for fixing up her arm. I still remember the flush on her cheeks, either from the cold wind or the hug. I was hoping it was the latter. I took that as my cue to leave, nodding once very slowly and probably looking like a dumb cow more than anything. Walking home, a relived that hug a hundred times that night. Needless to say I had no nightmares, and I never heard her scream either.

I put on my apron and open up the shop for the day, thinking of that memory with mixed feelings of happiness and embarrassment. Since that day our hugs have become a common occurrence. and I know that she needs them because more often than not she is the one initiating them. I never call her out on it, knowing that if I told her that i like them she would get all embarrassed and stop immediately. Humming a song I begin my day knowing that when I get home she will be there for me, because I know without a doubt that she and I are growing back together. And My Girl's love is as just as real as mine is.


End file.
